Saturday, December 23, 2006
An ode to Bagaria
What is due on my part is more than a volume of anecdotes, descriptions of personalities whom I have ran into or come across (since my last post), the endless travails of the rushing days, the listless moments of sleepless nights, scattered gems of ecstasy in the slimy earth of toil, and I hope I can do justice in parts without running the risk of a caveat.
Bagaria, one of the few endearing souls on the campus, 'wits, guts and musings', thats how I would fix him in a phrase. My tryst in life with him is to fight the poet in him, but one can’t fight a poet with logical swords and if one does, the person would be running the risk of being accused as a victim of historical fault lines of rationality and duality.
Having a guess of the nature of the risks I run in facing the poetic devil in Bagaria, I chose to fight the apparition in its own medium of rhymes and lo !!, poetry became the victim of my menial manifestations.
Like the serpent defiant
curls the winter truant
with the misty trails rises its hood
plunging folks into glaucous brood
And swallowing days with fewer yards
in the hours of twilight settle the bards
with the hour rises the phoenix bright
the citadel ancient's darling delight
Echoing in the now empty hall
of the times past in the order tall
drift a few notes hither of the melody
as testimonials of the ruins and rhapsody
An orphan, by it pass many a glance
like an orphan warmth comes only by chance
phoenix though it is, nurse the melody
lest, it be claimed by divine comedy
Wake up thy bard
dreamt you have of prosody hard
curled by serpent, the phoenix is mime
its time for the poet to rhyme
Ahem, now don’t you go mistaking me for an enemy of his, I am merely the magnetic south of his poetic north. Some of the most wonderful moments in the last six months have come about in the company of ‘Bagz’ (that’s how he is infamous), Mathew, Deepak, Rohit Gupta, Sagarneel and Lokesh (more testimonials to follow in time).
A testimonial is only like a snapshot, it captures a person in a frame of reference, and with enough time all frames pass out of reference and no testimonial can stand that test, what remains however is the essence a testimonial tries to capture, the spirit of being and the fear or the lack for the nothingness, as for Dada (and I am the ‘juggy’) I see the spirit shadowing the fear, and may that be so.
